Never Get Angry
by Cadela
Summary: PG-13 for language, yaoi. Fluff, Fluff, and more Fluff. A short sappy fluffpuddle of Daikeru goodness. Kensuke mention.


Takeru stepped outside, rubbing his arms to ward off the chill. It had been warm the day before, but a cold front had passed through and left the city cold. It was still dark with clouds and raining slightly, but Daisuke was sitting outside on the balcony, so he came outside after him.

Daisuke was sitting in a chair, legs folded in front of him, and a sketchbook on his lap. He was idly drawing the city that sat before him. Takeru sat his hands on the back of the chair and watched over his shoulder for a few minutes before Daisuke turned and looked up. "You know, I hate it when people watch me draw. It freaks me out. I feel like I have to be extra good or something. I'm always afraid of making a mistake."

"Sorry." Takeru sat down in the other chair, tapping his fingers on the railing gently. "What're you doing out here?"

"Just doodling. I like this view. I come out here a lot." Daisuke scrubbed his right hand on his jeans to get the smudged pencil lead off, then shifted in the chair and started drawing again.

"Inspirational view, eh?"

"I guess you could call it that." The boy shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "Can I dye my hair blue?"

"All of it? Sure, I don't know why not. You've done it before."

"Yeah, but I wasn't concerned with someone's reaction to it before. Is it okay?"

"Sure."

Daisuke flipped through his sketchbook slowly. "You know."

"What?"

"I'm not sure. I just felt like saying 'you know.'" He ripped out a piece of paper and folded it, wearing away a crease between the rest of the page and the jagged edges.

Takeru bit the inside of his mouth. "Can you dye my hair sometime? Dye it green."

"Sure, I guess so." Daisuke pulled the jagged edge off the rest of the paper and started folding it.

"I wish it hadn't rained. It's kind of cold now." Silently, the other boy stopped folding his paper and pulled off his sweatshirt, tossing it to the blonde. Takeru started to protest, but, remembering who he was about to start arguing with, sighed and pulled the sweatshirt over his head. He leaned back in the chair, snuggling into it. It smelled strongly of Daisuke. Daisuke smelled like his cologne with a faint touch of Takeru's mixed in. It was a smell Takeru knew better than the back of his hand. "How come you're mad at me, Dais?"

"I'm not mad at you. I don't get mad at you, Takeru. I get disappointed in you." Daisuke drew his fingers along a fold, then studied it carefully to make sure it was straight. "I just wish you would talk to me before you go and make plans for us both."

"I'm sorry. I just figured you'd be happy to see everyone together again."

"Don't get me wrong, Takeru, I am happy." Daisuke glanced up once. "Really, I swear. It's just that now I'm a little nervous about... okay, I'm not going to beat around the bush. Ken liked me and I don't know if he still does. All I know is that I don't want tension between myself and him or you and him. Remember way back when we both were after Hikari-chan?"

"Correction, _you_ were after Hikari-chan. She was just my best friend."

"Liar. But let's not get into that. We fought constantly. I hated you."

"You hated me?" Takeru blinked. This wasn't something they'd ever brought up before. It had always been sort of... buried away.

Daisuke folded the paper again. "Yeah. Well, not really. I don't think I'm capable of ever hating someone. Okay, I take that back. Daisuke has much anger, rarr. Daisuke hates many things and many people. But I don't think I was old enough to understand hate back then. I just couldn't _stand_ you."

"You couldn't _stand_ me?" Takeru wailed.

"Oh, stop that!"

"Sorry... it's just kind of hard to think about."

"Then stop thinking about it! Bad example. I'm just nervous about the way he's gonna react to us."

"Us, or... us?"

Daisuke examined the folds again. "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean us as in yourself and myself, or us as in... me and you. Couple us."

"Oh. Both."

"Well, what are we gonna do now?"

"Nothing." Daisuke shifted in the chair, putting down his folded paper and closing the sketchbook. "We'll just have to cross our fingers and hope it all goes well."

"What if it doesn't?" Takeru tilted his head to the side, snuggling closer to the sweatshirt. It smelled so good.

Daisuke shrugged. "I don't know. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." The darker boy wiggled in the chair, stretching his legs in front of him. He glanced at his watch. "I have to go to work."

"Now?"

He nodded, standing up and stretching some more. Takeru sighed. He felt incredibly guilty, even though he knew he shouldn't. He'd known that Ken liked Daisuke. And still, _he_ liked Daisuke. And Daisuke liked him. So it would be dumb to back down because Ken liked Daisuke first since Daisuke didn't like Ken and... oy, too many names, too many thoughts. It was all confusing.

Daisuke slid his arms around Takeru's shoulders, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the forehead. "I go change for work. I come home, we eat dinner, then sex sex sex, yes?"

The blonde grinned, laughing quietly. Daisuke's furious changing moods made the whole relationship interesting. Always. "All right. What do you want for dinner? You get off at ten?"

"Yeah, I'll probably come home around ten-thirty though. Trains are fuckin' slow in this weather. Make me something... something with oranges."

"Okay."

Daisuke pulled the folded paper out of his pocket, made a few minor adjustments, and then handed it to Takeru. "Look, I made you a f lower!"

Takeru smiled. Indeed. It was an origami flower. He held it gently as he watched Daisuke go back into the apartment, then studied it quietly as he heard the other slamming drawers and closets getting changed for work. It looked like something was written on it. Blinking, he looked closer. Yeah, that was writing all right. He gently began to undo the origami folds, revealing an image before him slowly. He smoothed it out gently, mouth open slightly in amazement. It was a highly detailed picture of himself, fast asleep. Curled up on the bed with sheets flung heedlessly over him. Daisuke must have drawn it early some morning. He always woke up first anyway, so he could get a shower before Takeru used up all the hot water, and he must have sat down and drawn the image that sat before him now. The writing he'd seen read, in scribbled hiragana, "How could you be angry with this? Don't be sorry, I could never be mad."

The door to the apartment closed inside as Daisuke headed out to work. Takeru leaned back in the chair on the balcony as it started to rain a bit harder, pressing the picture to him and cuddled up in the soft sweatshirt that smelled like Daisuke.


End file.
